


A Bit of Wrath Never Hurt

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, although this is more of a fun fic than a romantic one, assume the relationship is established, fictober19, the Wrath of Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 18:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Aziraphale rants about his hatred for Gabriel and, despite 6000 years, sometimes the angel still manages to surprise Crowley.Part of fictober 2019!





	A Bit of Wrath Never Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Euny_Sloane for all your help!

“Do you trust me?” Crowley asks. There’s a whisper of a plea behind his words, concern behind amber eyes. Aziraphale had been free of Heaven’s hold for a few weeks now and every step, every temptation, every minor deviance he caves to feels like a mountain. An eternal mountain. One he’s climbed over and over again and one he will climb over and over again. Crowley had told him that’s how it would feel at first, that every decision he made for  _ himself  _ would feel heavy on his shoulders. They absolutely do. Every decision he’s made in the past few weeks has reminded him of just how different life is now. 

He’s broken Heaven’s rules plenty of times. He’s just never broken them for his own gain. Every time he went against orders, he did so for humanity. He’d given away his sword, lied to the Almighty, and lived to tell the tale. He’d turned a blind eye to the stowaways Crowley had snuck onto the ark. Maybe she had seen his actions for what they were. A mercy. 

But this is entirely different. There are no humans to benefit from his sins. 

_ There’s no Heaven to berate me for them either.  _

“Yes,” he says finally, swallowing down his worry. 

Crowley cracks a smile and leans back into his seat, feet up on his desk. The concern is still there in the awkward little shifts to his seated posture, but it’s lessened substantially if his boneless lounging is any indication. The location is perfect, just as Crowley had insisted. There are plenty of things to break that are replaceable, unlike in the bookshop. “Go for it, angel. It’ll be fun, trust me.”

Aziraphale takes a deep breath. His fingers twist together in their characteristic way, locking once he’s finally settled on what to say. A breath out and-

“I have hated Gabriel since before Eden.” 

It’s a start. Not as spectacular of an explosion as Crowley had hoped, but it’s a start. 

“I hate the way he thinks he’s intelligent when really, he’s a garden variety buffoon. I have never in my life met a being - on Heaven, Earth, or Below - that has infuriated me as much as him.”

Aziraphale is pacing now, losing himself to the rant and boy is this  _ new.  _ He’s not shouting but he’s being  _ actively mean  _ and Crowley, despite being the one who had suggested this in the first place, had not expected that to come out until at least their second or third try at this. The angel (former angel?) never ceases to surprise him. “Go on. What did Gabriel do?”

Aziraphale throws his hands up in the air. “What hasn’t he done, Crowley?”  _ Voice raised. Also new. Kind of hot.  _ The last of the worries melts off Crowley’s shoulders and the lean of his chair is precarious. “I mean  _ good lord,  _ Crowley, he once disregarded my application for promotion because he simply did not understand that humans cannot handle seeing us in our true forms anymore. He would have me appear to humans in my true form, like some old testament principality. The humans explain away unidentified objects in the sky on a daily basis, Crowley. For me to appear to them would be futile at  _ best _ . I mean  _ really _ . Were it the first century, perhaps, but  _ now? _ ” 

“And have you seen how he treats minor angels?” He’s getting worked up, cheeks reddened in a way Crowley can’t help but find endearing. He barely takes a breath between rambling lines. “I would not be surprised if he has never learned the name of a minor angel in his life. One time he sent one to ‘pick up correspondence’ from Hell. Nearly got the poor boy killed. Of course I intervened. The correspondence never existed in the first place. He simply found the boy annoying and hoped he’d take a while, thought he’d bought himself some time without a minor angel asking him workplace questions.”

“For an angel, he is utterly incapable of feeling the love and mercy required of him. Let alone expressing it,” he finally adds, frowning into thin air. “The owner of no one good quality! He’s a...a…”

“An asshole?” Crowley offers. He’s grinning like an idiot but he doesn’t care. When was the last time Aziraphale let himself get angry, really and truly angry? When was the last time he’d let himself hate something? He has every right to. He’s been hurt, been used, been trampled over time and time again by all of his superiors, not just Gabriel. Crowley has wanted desperately to strangle them all, to burn half of hell down to ashes because how  _ dare  _ they treat Aziraphale as they do. How dare they take advantage of his good nature, of his constant and unwarranted mercies? How dare they hurt him simply because they could? Crowley cannot count how many times he’s been as worked up as Aziraphale is now, ready to fight God above if it came to it. But he never had because it would have made things worse. Every action he’d taken had resulted in an action taken against Aziraphale.

Besides, had he done so, Aziraphale wouldn’t get the satisfaction of burning it down himself. 

_ Baby steps, Crowley.  _

“Yes! Gabriel is an asshole! Of the worst kind!” 

It’s surprise, not disapproval, that causes Crowley to raise a brow but Aziraphale retreats, face falling as he takes in Crowley’s expression.  _ Have I stepped too far? Have I done too much? _ He fumbles with his hands again, no doubt attempting to formulate an explanation, and Crowley is about to intervene and reassure him when Aziraphale’s expression morphs again, cracking a tentative grin.  _ No heaven to berate me.  _ “We’re free. No rules.”

“No rules,” Crowley agrees.  _ Nothing in our way. Just you and I for however long you’ll put up with me.  _ Crowley leans onto his elbows on the desk.  _ Here for whatever you need from me. _

Aziraphale takes another breath but this time it’s different. This time he’s catching it, recovering from one rant only to go right into another with the excitement of someone who has literally bottled up his every emotion since the dawn of time and is just now realizing he doesn’t have to. “I utterly despise him! I believe there are far more qualified angels who should have taken his job! I think he’s incapable of love!” 

He grabs a vase- 

“He may just be the worst angel ever created!” 

Takes care to gently set the flowers on the desk- 

“Fuck Gabriel, honestly!”

With that, he throws it against the wall with supernatural force. This would earn a “wahoo” if Crowley weren’t still in shock. 

“Feeling better?” he asks instead, smirking. The angel looks up from the shattered glass with a matching grin. 

“_Absolutely_.”


End file.
